


Oh, Samwise Gamgee You Old Fool

by Cas_Wings



Category: The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: AO3 1 Million, M/M, Pre-Quest, The Shire
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-16
Updated: 2014-02-16
Packaged: 2018-01-12 16:08:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1191312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cas_Wings/pseuds/Cas_Wings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Sam and Frodo go for an outing, they both begin to reflect on their feelings for one another. But where will these thoughts take them, when they find themselves pushed together by the forces of nature? Pre!quest shire fic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Oh, Samwise Gamgee You Old Fool

It was a warm, spring day in the shire. Farmers weaved to and fro on the paths, quickly making their way to market or back to the fields; it was simply business as usual. Frodo awoke to the aroma of bacon and eggs, warm sunshine streaming through the small window to his right. 

'Sam must have decided to cook breakfast this morning.' Frodo thought with a small smile. Sam would be over most everyday to tend to the garden, but often would go above and beyond his assigned job by helping Frodo around the house. It was nice, to have the other Hobbit around. Although most thought Frodo to be content alone, he often felt a small tug of loneliness in his heart, the Baggins side of his blood yearning for the presence of another. Luckily, Sam was at Bag End most days, and on the occasion Frodo felt that familiar, lonely tug, he could just go spend time with the honey-eyed gardener. Being with Sam seemed to make Frodo the happiest, and quenched his lonely soul to the fullest extent in Bilbo's recent absence.

Smiling softly as his thoughts returned to the present, Frodo's heart gave a happy jump at the prospect of spending the morning with Sam. Swinging his legs over the soft edge of his bed, the fair skinned Hobbit rose from the warm comfort just as a knock sounded upon his door.

“Mr. Frodo?” Sam's soft voice called gently, muffled by the wood of the door separating them.

“Yes, Sam, come in.” Frodo replied, hurriedly throwing a robe over his nightgown for decency's sake.

At the permission, Sam opened the door softly. “Oh, good morning, Mr. Frodo.” 

Frodo accepted the greeting with a small, sincere smile. He was always happy to see Sam, especially in the mornings; it seemed to make his whole day a joyous affair.  
“Good morning, Sam.” He responded softly, his heart giving a light, all too familiar flutter at Sam's returned smile.

“I found some extra time on my hands this mornin', and thought it'd be right if I made some breakfast before you slept right to elevensies.” Sam explained, brushing past Frodo politely to make his mussed bed.

“I have made it a habit to sleep in far too long these past winter months.” Frodo agreed, steadying his voice to a normal pitch after Sam had brushed close enough to allow him an involuntary smell. 

He knew he shouldn't be reacting so drastically to such small things about the other Hobbit, but Frodo couldn't help it. Sam was scented with rich earth and sunshine, and the color and light in his eyes could outmatch any of the beautiful flowers he grew outside the windows. In short, Sam was simply beautiful. Of course, Frodo would never utter it aloud. Other Hobbits found it odd enough he chose solitude, and he didn't need any more rumors floating around, especially ones entailing how the gardener had been scared off by “that crazy Frodo's” confession of love. So, he kept to himself and ignored his feelings for one of his closest friends, despite how often they would resurface in his dreams, or, gods forbid, in his waking mind. 

“Mr. Frodo?” Sam asked once more, his brow just beginning to furrow in slight concern under his sandy locks.

Frodo shook himself from the reflection, his pointed ears burning red when he realized he was being addressed. “Oh, yes, Sam?”

“Breakfast is waiting for you when you're ready.” The gardener responded, the concern leaving his face to make way for a light, caring smile.

Frodo nodded, averting his eyes from Sam's easy going expression as his heart gave another jump. “Uh, yes, I'll be out in a minute, after I'm dressed.” He managed eventually, fumbling on his words.

Sam gave a polite nod. “Whenever you'll be feeling ready, Mr. Frodo.” And, with that, the Hobbit shuffled from Frodo's room, shutting the door behind him with a soft click.

Glad for the privacy, Frodo steadied his swaying form by placing his hand on the bed post, breathing in the warm air surrounding him. He was a sensible gentle Hobbit, and should have no capacity for such foolishness as this. But, despite his best efforts of logic and reason, he simply couldn't get around the way Sam effected him. No matter, he would just have to be more attentive to his emotions and keep his betraying gaze and words in check; there was no need in puzzling or worrying Sam, goodness knew he did it enough without much reason. 

'Mr. Frodo,' Sam would say, 'are you feelin' alright? You haven't been out for a while, and you seem a little down.'

Then, as always, Frodo would provide his friend with a small, reassuring smile that, yes, everything was fine, no need to worry. But, despite the reassurance, Sam would still watch Frodo with that concerned gaze of his, and occasionally fell into such a state of looking out for Frodo that he would offer an outing. 

These were Frodo's favorite times, and although the offers stemmed from Sam's own worry, he wouldn't be one to turn them down. Often, he would find himself helping Sam in the garden or out in the field, doing simple chores just for the sake of 'keeping him out and active'. However, on special occasions, Sam would offer a walk by the small creek down the hill, or sometimes even a nice picnic in South Field. Although working beside Sam was always a pleasure, Frodo found that he especially enjoyed participating in recreation with the other Hobbit; it gave him an opportunity to steal too-long glances as the bright sun lit up Sam's soft face. Perhaps they could picnic sometime soon...

Pulling himself from another train of reflective thought, Frodo set about dressing, careful to lay his robe out on the window sill as a reminder to clean it later. 

“I hope you didn't go through much trouble simply to fix me breakfast, Sam.” Frodo commented, entering the kitchen just as he finished adjusting his suspenders.

Sam turned from the blazing fire, wiping a handkerchief over his slightly damp brow with a shake of his head. “Oh, it was no trouble., Mr. Frodo.”

Frodo smiled at Sam's kindness, stopping the expression quickly before it became too loving. “Well then, Sam, I must insist you sit and share the meal with me. It wouldn't be fair to have you cook all that food only to send you back out to the garden. You deserve a break.”

Sam felt his heart swell at Frodo's offer, half of him wanting to refuse for politeness' sake, half of him wanting nothing more than to have a nice chat with the other Hobbit over breakfast. “Well, sir, if you insist.” Sam replied eventually, an easy smile spreading across his face as he dished up the food and poured tea.

There never really seemed to be a lack of reason to smile at Bag-End, Sam decided. The garden he carefully tended was growing to be beautiful once more, much like Frodo. Of course, he never stopped being beautiful. It was simply that, over the past winter, Frodo seemed to seclude himself in his residence, and all too often a lonely, solemn look would take root in his eyes. Sam suspected it was due to Mr. Bilbo's recent leave. Without his uncle to keep him company, Frodo seemed worse than ever in his secluded habits, and there wasn't much Sam could do. Oh, how he wished he could keep Frodo from his loneliness, but the winter was too busy, full of cooking, cleaning, and spring preparation at the Gamgee's. So, Sam visited as often as he could during the cold months, always making it clear Frodo was welcome to drop by. But now, in the early months of spring, Sam could be at Bag End for as long and often as he wished due to gardening. 

No doubt, the garden he had so carefully tended to was the most beautiful in all of Hobbiton, but it wasn't why Sam came round so often. Although he would never utter it aloud, the Hobbit found himself deeply and utterly in love with his master. He wasn't sure when the feeling developed, for it had always seemed to be there in his heart, like a rose who's petals never fell with death. Not that Sam minded, really. Love was a pleasant feeling, a soft warmth that kept him light and happy throughout the day, especially when he was near to Frodo. Sometimes, when Sam would discover a day where he wasn't working at Bag End, he would invite Frodo to tag along with him if the job wasn't too trying. And, if he got lucky, would find he had an ample amount of extra time on his hands, which meant one thing: He and Frodo could spend the day together. He would often suggest a walk down by the creek or a simple picnic, for these seemed to lighten Frodo's lonely spirit the most. It certainly helped to ease some of his persistent heart ache over the fair skinned Hobbit, that was for sure. Perhaps they could squeeze in a walk today...

Shaking the thoughts that caused a blush to creep high on his neck, Sam served the both of them, only sitting down after he was sure Frodo had everything he needed.

“This is very good, Sam.” Frodo commented after swallowing his first mouthful of fluffy scrambled eggs.“What did you put in them?”

Sam felt himself blush with the compliment, and forced himself to focus on his meal. “Thank you, Mr. Frodo. And it was just a bit of ground rosemary, nothin' fancy.”

“They're wonderful.” Frodo praised as he continued to eat, unknowingly causing Sam's heart to leap aflutter once more.

“Guess I should remember the recipe, then.”Sam replied with a small smile, his expression turning thoughtful as he looked out to the garden. “Mr. Frodo?”

Frodo looked up from his meal, the sight of Sam's soft eyes causing a gentle smile to spread over his lips. “Yes?”

“I don't know if you had anything planned for today, but it looks like I'll be done with everything early, and was wonderin' if you would want to go for a walk down by the creek.”

Frodo had to stop his face from lighting up too much at the other Hobbit's offer, and nodded without second thought. “Of course, Sam. That would be wonderful, it's a beautiful day and it would be a shame to waste it.”

“I couldn't agree more, sir.” Sam replied, rising to clear the now empty dishes. “I'll just finish the weedin' and put away my tools, then we can be off.”

Frodo stood with the other Hobbit, reaching to place a hand on Sam's forearm as he reached for the used dishes. “You can't very well finish the weeding while doing dishes, can you Sam?” He asked lightly, remembering to remove his hand after a moment.

Sam felt his heart race at the sudden contact, but ignored the feeling. Mr. Frodo didn't mean the touch like that, so he shouldn't take it in that sense, it wasn't proper like. “Well no, sir, I can't,” Sam replied, reluctantly watching Frodo clear the table, “but I made the mess, I should be the one arm deep in soapy water, not you.”

Frodo chuckled softly at Sam's words, shaking his head. “Really, Sam, if I weren't to stop you I believe you might work all night and day trying to tend to everything. There's no reason why I can't do a little work, besides it'll just mean we can have more time for our walk.”

Sam blushed slightly at his master's comment, but nodded in acceptance. “I can't argue with you there, sir. But if you need anything, don't hesitate to call.”

“Oh Sam,” Frodo sighed, not meaning for the words to come out so enamored, “I wouldn't want to trouble you anymore than necessary. But yes, I'll call should I need anything.”

Sam nodded, his stomach fluttering as his name passed through Frodo's rosy lips. “I guess I'll be off, shouldn't take me but ten minutes.”

“Alright, don't dilly dally then.” Frodo joked, knowing he practically had to push Sam to let him do anything around Bag End.

“Oh, yes sir.” Sam replied hurriedly, stepping out to the garden in the hopes his rapid heart would slow with the melancholy work.

As Frodo washed the small amount of dishes, his eyes traveled to the window, which through he could see Sam hard at work in the garden. The Hobbit was bent over the flowers, a happy gleam to his eyes as he plucked the weeds from the rich earth. Oh, how Frodo's heart yearned to feel those calloused hands cupping his face, to watch those honey brown eyes drop to his lips in silent question. But no, it would never be. Through the years, Sam would remain his loyal, friendly servant, and Frodo would remain his kind, gracious master, never to utter his true feelings to the gardener. If only he had one night with Sam, one hour, one minute, simply to hold him in a close embrace, to allow his rich, earthy scent to surround him... Oh, but a Hobbit could long, and he could wish, but all the pining in the world would never produce results. So, Frodo did what he always had: he tore his gaze from his beloved and pushed down his feelings, despite the fact they were  
bound to resurface.  
What had he been doing again? Ah yes, dishes. Finishing the mess quickly, Frodo fetched a small basket and headed to the pantry, knowing they were bound to get hungry along the path. Considering the many options that stood before him, the Hobbit chose a small wedge of cheese, bread, some raspberry preserves, and a small jar of ale. He was quick to pack the food, his mind already traveling forward in anticipation of the wonderful afternoon ahead.  
“Sam?” He called, stepping out on the porch with the basket hanging from his loose fist.

“I'll just be another minute, sir.” Sam reassured, standing to brush off his hands. “Just gotta put me tools away and wash up, then we'll be off.”

Frodo nodded in approval, sitting on the bench outside his door to wait.

It didn't take Sam long to tidy up, and soon he found himself walking alongside Frodo towards the small body of water. 

“It is a beautiful day, Mr. Frodo.” Sam commented, agreeing with the other's earlier statement. “But by the looks of those clouds, we might be in for a bit of rain come tomorrow.”

“Well then,” Frodo began, blue eyes shifting to the almost black clouds on the horizon,“I'm quite glad we planned an outing today, if we had waited any longer we might've been rained in.”

“That we would have.” Sam agreed, detecting the scent of rich, damp soil that signified their arrival at the shady creek.

It hadn't been a long walk, only about fifteen minutes, but Frodo found his stomach growling, probably due to the fact he had slept right through first breakfast. “Are you hungry, Sam?”

At the mention of food, Sam felt his own stomach groan and nodded. “I could go for a bit right now.” 

“Splendid.” Frodo replied, a smile lightening his features as he plopped down contentedly under a tall willow tree. Pulling out a dish cloth, he spread the material over the soft grass and placed out the food he packed, taking a small portion for himself. “Help yourself, Sam, there's plenty to go around.” Frodo commented, spreading soft goat cheese over his bread.

“Thank you, sir.” Sam replied, dishing out some jam over a slice of bread before he leaned back against the tree next to Frodo, their shoulders brushing slightly. It was ridiculous, he knew, to be so effected by the barely there contact, but Sam couldn't help it. Frodo was so close he could smell the soft oatmeal of his skin and the sharp rosemary of his hair, tempting him to just reach out and touch... But no, he wouldn't begin that train of thought right now. He and Mr. Frodo were having a nice time, surely he wouldn't ruin it by doing something impulsive, perhaps even stupid. So, instead, he sat and ate in contented silence next to Frodo, enjoying the soft breeze floating up from the water. If he could, Sam would stay in this moment forever, just he and Frodo...

It wasn't long before the food was gone and minds were fuzzy from the ale, causing the two Hobbits to slump contentedly back onto the tree. 

“I think I could go for a nap right about now.” Frodo commented, a yawn overtaking him. 

“Aye, I couldn't agree more, sir.” Sam said, eyes falling in wonder upon the sight of Frodo illuminated by a ray of sunlight that filtered through the leaves above.

Frodo, stifling another yawn, leaned his head back and closed his eyes, comfortable as could be. “We'll just have a short rest.” He murmured, sleep already muffling his words.

Sam hummed in response, head lolling back onto the smooth bark of the tree. Eyelids heavy with sleep, he spared but one glance over to Frodo to ensure he was comfortable, and found his breath nearly taken by the sight. There Frodo sat, head resting against the tree, his face peaceful and lips parted with soft breath. Oh, how Sam wished he could reach over and brush the curls from Frodo's face to press a kiss upon his forehead... Perhaps he could dream about it. With the beautiful sight of his dear Frodo safely in his mind, Sam let his eyelids fall in light sleep, a smile gracing his lips.

Frodo woke a long while later, his face buried in the pleasant warmth of cotton. In a moment of sleep addled confusion, he thought he was back in Bag End, lying in bed. But then, the soft, earthy scent he had near memorized filled his senses, and Frodo instantly knew he didn't have the better half of his face buried in his pillow. Turning his gaze upwards with a careful curiosity that caused his heart to hammer, he confirmed his suspicions: in his sleep, he had wound up pressed into Sam's side, resting against the crook of his neck. And my, what a pleasant surprise it made, to be so close to the one he had pined after for so long. Not daring to move, Frodo nuzzled ever so slightly into Sam's neck and breathed in deeply, knowing full well this was the only opportunity he would get to be so close to his beloved. 

“Oh Sam, if only you could know how much I care for you.” Frodo whispered, ensuring his voice was barely audible. “I wish this moment could never end.”  
But, despite the wish, Sam began to shift in waking not five minutes later, five minutes Frodo would always hold dear in his memory and close to his heart. So, not wanting to make Sam uncomfortable with his close proximity, Frodo moved quickly to sit as he had been before, pretending to still be asleep.

Sam woke slowly, a barely there smile crossing his lips when he realized where he was, and who he was with. However, this feeling of sleepy peace didn't last long when the Hobbit detected an all too familiar scent around him, a feeling buzzing through the very air he was breathing: rain was coming. To confirm his suspicions, Sam turned his honey-brown eyes up to the sky, finding dark, almost black clouds hanging low above them.

“Oh dear.” Sam murmured to himself, knowing by his experience with the weather that rain would be upon them any minute. Looking over to his sleeping companion, his heart swelled, wishing he didn't have to wake Frodo from such a peaceful sleep. But, being woken by cold rain wouldn't be any better. “Mr. Frodo?” Sam called, shaking his companion's shoulder gently. “Mr. Frodo, you've got to wake up.”

Frodo pretended to wake slowly, Sam's hand on his shoulder causing his breath to quicken. “Yes, Sam what is it?” He asked, the sleepiness of his voice not feigned. 

“There's a rain storm comin', sir.” Sam informed, a slight urgency to his voice as he packed up the remnants of their earlier meal.

Being buried in Sam's side had definitely distracted Frodo, for he hadn't noticed any change to the world around him in the past minutes of his waking. But now, alerted to the state of the weather, he noticed the damp, almost dusty scent filling the air, a telltale sign of rain. “Oh, Sam me dear,” he began without thinking, “we've got to get back to Bag End, it wouldn't do to get caught under the storm.

“That it wouldn't, sir.” Sam agreed, clutching the basket in one hand before rising, offering his hand to aid Frodo in his standing.

“Thank you, Sam.” Frodo said, grabbing the other's hand to stand for a moment of happiness before they set off. 

It was not thirty seconds into the fifteen minute walk back to Bag End that the heavy, unrelenting rain began. “We best hurry, Mr. Frodo, or at this rate we'll be soaked through halfway home.” Sam commented, quickening his steps alongside his master.

“Oh, Sam, I believe that's already happened.” Frodo replied, looking down to his clothing, which was clinging to him wetly.

When Frodo spoke, Sam glanced over to him, and was once more breath taken by the sight. There Frodo stood, dripping wet in naught but a thin cotton shirt and breeches, his dark curls sticking to his forehead in such a way that it made his eyes all the more blue. Clearing his throat and averting his gaze, Sam took in the state of his own clothing, which was in as bad a shape as Frodo's. “Well, let's hurry then, or we'll catch our death of a cold.” 

Sam couldn't have been more right. The rain, which had been warm at first, soon turned ice cold, causing both the Hobbits to shiver in cool discomfort all the way back to Bag End.

“Looks like we've got ourselves into quite a state, haven't we.” Frodo said as they entered the warm Hobbit hole, his voice wavering slightly with his shiver. 

“I'd say so, sir.” Sam responded, his own voice shaky. “You go and get changed, I'll put on some tea.”

“And leave you to shiver in your soaked clothes? Why Sam, you must think me a mean soul.” Frodo countered, slight amusement in his voice despite the unsavory circumstances.

“Oh, never Mr. Frodo.” Sam replied quickly, the light tone of the other's voice never registering.

Frodo laughed softly, a drop of water cascading down his cheek from a curly lock of dark hair. “Come on, Sam, I've got to have something you can wear.”

Sam wanted to resist Frodo's kind offer, feeling like he had already taken too much from the other, but didn't want to seem stubborn. So, he followed Frodo down the short hall to his room, where he stood respectfully in the door, trying to keep his eyes from wandering along Frodo's lithe, muscled back, which was now visible through his soaked shirt.

Frodo rummaged through his drawers for a minute before a sigh escaped his lips, his apologetic eyes turning to Sam. “I'm afraid I don't have anything that might fit you.” He informed, blinking a drip of water from his left eye.

“Oh Mr. Frodo,” Sam began, forgetting to hide the endearment from his tone in the alluringly close confines of his master's warm bedroom, “I'll be alright, I promise.”

“But surely you can't stay in those wet clothes, why you'll be sick in no tim-” Frodo began, his words cut off as he spied the robe he had laid out earlier sitting on his window sill. 

“Sir?” Sam asked, noticing Frodo's sudden loss in the continuation of his words.

“Well,” Frodo answered softly, crossing the room to pick up the dressing gown, “I do have this. I meant to wash it today, but I suppose it could be used once more.”

“Oh, Mr. Frodo, I couldn't just take your robe. It wouldn't be proper like.”Sam quickly tried to decline, a blush creeping up his neck at the mere thought of wearing something that suggested such intimacy.

“Nonsense, Sam.” Frodo replied, a generous, caring look crossing his features. “Really, I insist, I wouldn't feel right leaving you shivering.”

Sam sighed in resignation, the internal battle he fought quelled by Frodo's kind words. “Well, alright, sir, but only because you insisted.” He accepted, stepping forward to take the thin cloth between his fingers.

“You'll feel better for it.” Frodo encouraged, seeing Sam was still apprehensive. “You may go change in the guest room across the hall, and I'll meet you in the kitchen in a few minutes.”

“Yes, sir.” Sam replied obediently, smiling softly at his master before exiting the room, closing the door with a soft click.

Letting out a shuddering breath brought about by the cold, Frodo quickly stripped off his shirt, breeches, and undergarments, happy to be rid of the damp clothing. He had felt bad, only having a robe to give to Sam, but admittedly enjoyed the endearing blush that had come across the gardener's cheeks at his offer. Oh, but curse his wandering mind, for the thought of Sam wearing his robe was quite pleasant, and would have certainly caused a heat to grow in his loins had he not been so cold. Pushing the thought from his mind so he would not find himself in such a state when he did eventually warm, Frodo quickly pulled on fresh garments before he set about toweling off his damp hair. Feeling quite refreshed and comforted in the soft, dry clothing, the Hobbit exited his room and set about making some tea.

Meanwhile, Sam was in quite a state, hunkered in Frodo's guest room. 

“You're acting worse than a child.”Sam chided himself quietly, looking with slight dread and an ashamed excitement at the garment he was provided. He knew he had to change into it, and certainly felt ready to be rid of his soaked clothing, but found his nerves getting the best of him. Not only was this Mr. Frodo's robe, his personal and slightly intimate garment, but every bit of Sam's clothing was soaked, meaning he would have to leave not a stitch under the dressing gown. It just didn't seem right, Sam decided, in fact it almost seemed perverse. But, nonetheless, he was going to have to wear it. So, sucking in a breath that only served to ignite his nerves further, Sam quickly stripped all his clothing before he could stop himself, pausing for a moment at his undergarments. Surely he could keep these? But, as soon as his fingers trailed along the nearly soaked material, he knew his hope was for naught: they would have to go as well. Slipping them off was quite the nerve wracking task, but soon Sam found himself wrapped in the warm, soft, cotton comfort of Frodo's robe, and all his previous hesitations disappeared. Oh, how good it felt to have something that was so close to Frodo brush across his very skin. And the scent of the garment, why it was practically indescribable. The soft scent of oatmeal and rosemary enveloped his senses as it had many times before, but this time it was pure and strong, not just a passing whiff of the soaps Mr. Frodo used. No, nestled in the warm comfort of Frodo's robe, Sam could sense what it would be like to be close to the one he loved, and instantly found himself pressing his face into the soft sleeves, inhaling deeply. He knew it was improper, but the mere fantasy that the strong scent enticed was the most vivid he had ever experienced, almost as is Frodo was right there with him, pressing his lips to the sun tanned skin on his neck, letting his hand trail down until...

“Sam?” Frodo's voice called abruptly, jerking Sam from his own mind. “Does it fit you well enough?”

Sam stammered, wrenching his face from the sleeves as if he had been caught doing something terrible. “Oh, uh,” the Hobbit began, clearing his throat as he felt a blush rise to his cheeks, despite being unseen by Frodo, “yes, sir. It's fine, I'll be out in but a minute.”

“Well, take as long as you need, Sam. There are some towels by the bed, should you need them.” Frodo replied through the door.

“Thank you, Mr. Frodo.” Sam called back, eyes shifting over to the mentioned towels as his nervous stomach settled from the startle he had.

“You're welcome.” Frodo replied. “Oh, and I'm making some tea, it should be done soon.”

“I'll be right out, sir.” Sam reassured, instantly feeling poorly that Frodo had put it upon himself to make the tea while he had sat in the bedroom having quite the time with his master's robe.

“No hurry.” Frodo called, sounding as if he was already walking from the closed door.

“Samwise Gamgee, you old fool.” Sam chastised himself, ashamed he had let himself be carried away for his own fantasy's sake so Frodo had to start his work. So, without a second thought, Sam hung his wet clothes over the towel rack , pulled the robe around him to resemble some sort of decency, and walked quickly from the room.

Frodo had just set the tea pot over the fire when he heard Sam's quiet yet distinct foot steps upon his floor.

“I hope you're warming up, Sam,” Frodo began, turning from the fire towards the other Hobbit, “that rain certainly had a sting to i-” At the sight that suddenly filled his vision, Frodo's words halted in his throat, and his mouth went dry. Standing before him, in what looked to be nothing but his robe was Sam, sandy curls stuck to his head with rain water. Why, it almost looked as if he had just gotten out of the bath. Oh, the images that flashed before Frodo's mind at the sight of his dear Sam in such a state... It was all he could do not to press his gardener up against the wall to lick up the drop of rainwater that was slowly trailing down his neck.

Sam's face flushed a deep crimson when Frodo turned and stopped short of his sentence, obviously uncomfortable with seeing his servant in such a state of undress. “I won't be long in your clothin', sir.” Sam tried to reassure, hoping his words would break the awkward silence.

Frodo, broken out of his sudden fantasy by Sam's words, cleared his throat and rubbed the back of his neck with a slightly clammy palm. “Oh, uh, Sam there's no need, you can stay here till your clothes dry, it's no trouble.”

“I'm much obliged, sir.” Sam thanked, trying to act normal as he crossed the room to check the tea. “And I can finish this up, you go sit and have a rest.”

“Oh, Sam,” Frodo sighed, a smile crossing his lips as he watched the gardener shuffle around in preparation of food, “you're too good to me.”

Sam paused for a moment at Frodo's words, his heart leaping at the tone entwined in them. But, no, it was just wishful thinking on his part, Frodo would never... Would he? No, no it was foolishness to even consider, and he was just looking for trouble if he lit the candle of hope that lie deep in his heart. “Nonsense, sir, I'm only doing my duty.” Sam replied after a moment, moving back to his preparation.

Frodo hesitated before leaving, thinking he heard a twinge of something in Sam's voice... Disappointment? Oh, it was silly, his friend was just preoccupied. Satisfied with the conclusion, Frodo left to sit on the couch in the next room, ignoring the lagging thought in the back of his mind that continued to pester him about Sam's tone. However, Frodo didn't have much time to entertain the worry when Sam entered the parlor minutes later, face bright and happy as ever as he balanced tea and flaky pastries on a small tray. 

“You take honey, right, Mr. Frodo?” Sam asked, although he already knew the answer. It was always polite to be asking.

“Yes, Sam, thank you.”Frodo murmured gratefully as he sat to the edge of his plush couch to grasp at a warm cup of tea. “Feel free to sit.”

“Thank you, sir.” Sam replied, sitting next to Frodo only after he checked the robe was properly tied around him. Grasping his mug of tea, the honey eyed Hobbit sat back on the couch, ever mindful of the state of his clothing. “This should warm us right up.”

“It should.” Frodo agreed, taking a long sip of his steaming mint beverage. “Mm...” he sighed, “That's wonderful.” 

Sam let his eyes wander over to Frodo, who was sitting with his hands wrapped tightly around the small tea mug, his eyes closed in warm contentment. “That it is, Mr. Frodo.” He agreed softly, letting himself sink back into the cushions where his shoulder came into close, resting contact with Frodo's. 

“I don't believe we could've picked a worse day to nap away the afternoon.” Frodo commented, eyes shifting to look out his window as night slowly began to swallow the cloud covered sun.

Sam chuckled, nodding as he took a bite of pastry, finishing the mouthful before talking. “I guess we shouldn't be so sluggish next time.”

“That, and we should cut down on the ale.” Frodo joked, an easy smile coming over his features as his eyes shifted to a flaky bit of pastry clinging to the corner of Sam's mouth. If only he could lean over and lick it away...

Sam noticed Frodo's sudden expression change after his joke, a look of almost longing coming over his face as he seemed to be gazing out the window behind him. Oh, Sam realized quickly with a sympathetic swell of his heart, Frodo must be missing his uncle.

“Mr. Frodo?” Sam asked gently, reaching over to place his hand on Frodo's forearm while pushing away his own feelings of giddiness at the contact.

Frodo snapped out of his mind once more, internally yelling at himself for his carelessness to hide his feelings today before he turned to Sam, the solid weight of the gardener's hand causing his heart to thump. “Yes?”

“Are you alright, sir?” Sam asked cautiously, not wanting to over step his bounds. “You've seemed off someplace else today, and, well, I thought you might be missin' Mr. Bilbo.”

Frodo felt a slight pang of loneliness hit him at Sam's words, but shook his head. “No, Sam, it's not that, I guess I'm just a bit distracted today is all.”

Sam patted Frodo's arm reassuringly, meeting his eyes with a careful, almost cautious expression. “Pardon if I'm being too forward, sir, but you can always come to me if somethin's troublin' ya.”

Frodo smiled, almost sadly, and nodded. He hadn't begun to think about Bilbo lately, but now he had, he realized just how much he missed his uncle's companionship. However, what pained Frodo more than anything was to be so near to Sam without a single way to reach the one place he wished to be: in the warm, strong arms of his gardener. And now, in this moment, with Sam so close and thoughts of Bilbo crowding his mind, Frodo acknowledged all too quickly the true extent of his lonely heart. Sucking in a slow breath, he tried to keep the tears from his blue eyes, but was unsuccessful. All this time, he had felt so alone and never realized it, and now it was all crashing in on him at once.

Sam nearly panicked when he caught sight of tears glistening in Frodo's blue eyes, his own heart instantly falling pained by the sight. “Oh, Mr. Frodo...” Sam sighed in sympathy, not hesitating for a moment before he pulled Frodo close into his arms. “He'll be back soon, you'll see.”

Frodo swallowed, trying desperately to stop the tears that caused crimson to color his cheeks, but failed when he was pulled into the very arms he longed for. Taking a breath, he buried his face into the soft cotton covering Sam's chest, and wept. 

“Oh Sam...” he murmured quietly after a few minutes, “It's not just Bilbo.”

Sam's softly circling fingers paused on Frodo's back, confusion slowing his heart which had sped up as soon as he found the other Hobbit in his arms. “What do you mean, sir?”

Frodo took a deep, shuddering breath under the weight of his emotion and shook his head, unsure of exactly what he was doing. “It's just, there's someone else I am held from, and every time I see them it pains me to know I will never be with them.”

At Frodo's words, Sam's stomach sickened in horror, the icy grip of fear and heartbreak grasping tightly at his chest. Surely, it couldn't be... Surely Frodo hadn't been eying another Hobbit, there had to be some mistake. But, going over Frodo's recent words in his head, Sam knew there was no mistake in the meaning of his words, and slowly felt his eyes well with hot tears. It took a moment, and sheer will power, but Sam collected himself enough to continue comforting Frodo. “Well, you don't know that, sir. That other Hobbit may very well be eyin' you with the same feelings.” He replied, trying to keep his voice from wavering as all his hopes were shattering.

“Oh, Sam,” Frodo murmured, wiping his tears away with the back of his hand, “I know they'll never feel as strongly as I do, I know they don't stay up at night thinking of how it would feel to hold me, to kiss me.”

Sam nearly choked out a sob, but instead stared at a brick on the fireplace mantle blankly, tears streaming down his cheeks as he struggled to answer. “Well, Mr. Frodo, there's a lot of things you don't know about the ways of others,” he began, his voice nearly breaking under his grief, “you never know who is out there, lyin' in their beds thinking of how soft your skin would feel, or how silky your hair would be brushed against their neck...” Sam took a breath, a soft whimper escaping him. He knew he was being blatantly obvious, but in the moment, he didn't care anymore to hide it, he was already broken. “They might think everyday about how soft your lips might feel under theirs.”And, with these final words, Sam bit his quivering lip and sobbed silently, desperately trying to collect himself before Frodo sat up and saw hi-

“Sam?” Frodo asked cautiously, eyebrows knitted in a strange mix of confusion, hope, compassion, and sadness. “Sam, surely you don't mean you...”

Sam, uncaring anymore to mask the truth, nodded, unable to meet Frodo's gaze. “Aye, I do, sir.” He admitted eventually, voice broken and quiet. 

“Oh, Samwise Gamgee you old fool...” Frodo whispered reverently, reaching out to take Sam's hand. But, before he could grasp the gardener's calloused fingers, Sam rose from the couch.

The minute Sam heard Frodo's words, he knew he couldn't hold on. Through his grief, he had misinterpreted the tone Frodo used, and instead of hearing the loving, hopeful air to them, he heard rejection, disgust. “I'll just... Go.” He managed out, wiping at his eyes as he turned. But, as his feet began to lead him from the couch, he felt an all too familiar hand around his, and turned. He was heartbroken, ashamed, and angry with himself, but he would never deny Frodo if he needed something.

“Sam...” Frodo murmured, looking up to the gardener's face, who's eyes were downcast to his feet. “Sam, look at me.”

Slowly, Sam looked up to meet Frodo's eyes, despite every nerve of his screaming 'run'. However, instead of the rejection he assumed he'd see, he found a loving, hopeful expression in Frodo's eye, one he had only ever seen when...  
“Mr. Frodo? Surely you don't mean...” Sam murmured carefully, repeating the same question he had been asked not moments before.

“Aye, I do.” Frodo whispered, copying Sam's words of earlier confirmation in blatant meaning.

Sam let out a choked breath of relief, looking to Frodo in curious wonder as he slowly sank down onto the couch next to him. “That was me you were talkin' about?”

Frodo smiled, soft and sweet despite the tear stains on his cheeks. “Yes, Sam... It's always been you.”

With those words, Sam felt his heart swell with the flame of love he had never dared encourage before, and instantly pulled Frodo into his arms, a few happy tears trailing down his face. “Oh, Mr. Frodo, I was so afraid you were gone from me forever.”

Frodo, his heart hammering with what he never thought would happen, shook his head before burying his face in Sam's neck. “Never, Sam, I've always been right by your side, and I always will be.” He murmured softly, fingers finally able to stroke through his gardener's sandy locks.

“I really have been a fool, haven't I?” Sam asked, only breaking his embrace from Frodo to wipe the tears from his face.

“No more than I, dear Sam.” Frodo murmured in reply, placing his hand on Sam's now dry cheek. “No more than I.”

Sam leaned into Frodo's soft hand on his cheek, his eyes closing for a moment of enjoyment. “I suppose we both have been pretty daft, haven't we?”

Frodo chuckled and nodded, indescribable joy shining in his blue eyes. “But now we needn't waste any more time.”

Sam opened his eyes, meeting Frodo's in a soft gaze. “Well, sir,” he began, leaning forward to place a gentle hand under Frodo's chin, “I couldn't agree more.” Then, without hesitation or fear, Sam pressed his lips against his beloved's. And oh, never in his dreams had Frodo's kisses been this sweet, his lips this soft. Kissing Frodo was unlike anything Sam had ever felt, and produced in him the same blissful feeling he got when gardening. When Sam knelt in the soil at Bag End each day and tended to the flowers, helped them grow, it gave him a sense of purpose, of happiness. And now, here in this moment, Frodo's lips locked gently with his, Sam gained the same strong feeling of purpose, of happiness. For not only was he finally with the one he loved, he was helping Frodo grow out of his lonely state, out of his own dark earth, and into someone beautiful, more beautiful than any flower growing outside. And for that, Sam couldn't have been more pleased.

Breaking the kiss to breathe, as Sam had successfully robbed him of his breath, Frodo pressed his forehead against the gardener's and took his hands. “Sam...” He breathed, unsure of what he even meant to say. So, instead, the feeling of the sweet kiss still fresh on his lips, Frodo leaned forward and nuzzled into Sam's side. 

Sam put a strong arm around Frodo's shoulders, bowing his head to place a soft kiss upon the dark, silky curls he had longed to touch. “I don't think I have a mind to leave until this storm is completely over.” He murmured into Frodo's hair.

Frodo let out a small, contented laugh, his breath trailing warmly against the sun tanned skin of Sam's neck. “I assure you, Samwise Gamgee, I won't let you leave for quite a while.”

Sam felt an easy smile fall across his lips as he let a small, involuntary hum of pleasure escape him at the feeling of Frodo's breath against his sensitive skin. “And what do you plan on doing, keepin' me here?” He asked without thinking, a blush rising to his cheeks as soon as the suggestive words slipped from his mouth. T'was true, he did desire Frodo quite a bit, but he didn't yet know if the feeling was mutual.  
However, his worrisome thoughts ceased almost instantly when Frodo sat up and looked to him, all teasing gone from his eyes to make way for something else, something Sam had never seen in the the Hobbit's eyes.

“Well, Sam,” Frodo began, feeling his expression darken with a heat that he had only allowed to surface in the confines of his own bed, “what do you wish to do?”

Sam blushed at Frodo's suggestion and flicked his eyes down to his hands, which were clasped together with the other Hobbit's. “Well, sir,” he began, respectful as he always had been despite the half-excited half-embarrassed blush rising over his cheeks, “I wouldn't mind sharin' your bed tonight.”

Frodo was surprised at how quickly Sam admitted what he wanted, for he thought he would have to guide the shy gardener to the subject. But, it seemed he had waited too long to simply dance around the subject. Licking his lips in a subconscious, tell tale sign of arousal, Frodo lifted Sam's slightly pink face. “I'll be happy to indulge you, Samwise Gamgee.”

At Frodo's words, Sam felt a surge of heat rush straight to his loins, his cock going stiff faster than ever before. Breath hitching at the sudden punch of arousal, the gardener leaned forward and pressed his lips insistently upon Frodo's willing mouth. The kiss, unlike the previous, had a heat to it, a passion that rivaled the crackling fire in front of them. Although the kiss was rough, Sam's hands were gentle, and oh so slowly he caressed the skin just under Frodo's collarbone where his shirt allowed access. Never before had Sam been so aroused or so filled with love, and never before had he held a hunger within him greater than that for the taste of Frodo's milky skin. Starving lips trailed their way along his master's jawline, tongue flicking out when he reached the rapidly beating pulse located on the side of Frodo's neck.

“Oh...” Frodo moaned, the sensation of Sam's slightly chapped lips trailing over his neck a new one, and a pleasurable one at that. “Sam, that's...” He trailed off, his erection only growing as he gave into his desires and stroked along the softly filled curves on Sam's body. Soft, undamaged writer's fingers roamed freely down the side of Sam's ribcage, taking in the quickening of his breath before gently moving to stroke at the slight, Hobbit like pudge of his stomach.

“Is this okay, Sam?” Frodo asked almost breathlessly as his softly trembling hands rested against the hastily tied knot of the robe Sam wore.

Sam ceased his task of sucking a bruise into the unmarred skin on Frodo's neck to nod. “Aye, Mr. Frodo, it's more than okay.” He murmured hoarsely.

At the inciting confirmation, Frodo found himself shamelessly undoing the knot to let his robe fall freely away from Sam's body, exposing the other Hobbit. Sucking in a breath at the arousing combination of Sam's teeth worrying at his collarbone and the sight of his lover bared shamelessly upon his couch, Frodo reached an uncontrolled hand forward and wrapped his deft fingers about Sam's arousal. And oh, never before had he imagined Sam would feel this nice under him. Hard, moist flesh jerked under his sudden touch, and Frodo detected a bead of warm, slick liquid creeping under his wandering palm.

Sam gasped at the expected yet surprising presence of Frodo's hand upon him and buried his face in his lover's neck, the pleasure of his every sense overwhelming him. Breathing for a moment, he got enough of his wits about him to chastise himself for reveling in his own selfish pleasure before Frodo even got a chance at his. So, sitting up, he removed Frodo's hand from his aching cock and pushed the other Hobbit back to half lay against the arm of the couch.

“My apologies, sir,” Sam began in a low voice as he licked his kiss swollen lips, “but I can't be sittin' here partaking in the pleasure of your hand when you've felt naught of mine.”

“Sam you don't have to place me firs-” Frodo began, his words cut off by his own sharp intake of breath as Sam's large, calloused hand cupped the prominent bulge in his trousers. 

“Excuse my disagreement, sir, but I believe I do.” Sam replied, hands leaving Frodo's arousal to trail slowly up his chest, unbuttoning the other Hobbit's shirt as he went. Finally reaching the top button, the gardener undid it and instantly leaned forward to latch his lips upon a now exposed nipple. Satisfied with the gasp he elicited from Frodo, Sam flicked his tongue out against the quickly pebbling flesh, his free hands reveling in the soft skin stretched pleasantly over his lover's sides. 

Frodo writhed under Sam's talented mouth, his nipples far more sensitive than he would have ever imagined. Stroking Sam had been pleasurable enough, but now to have Sam's mouth and hands all over him, well Frodo couldn't think of anything better to experience. So, he leaned back into the couch and let his breath come in short, shallow gasps as waves of pleasure ran over him. Finally, he had Sam all to himself.

Breathing a warm sigh of contentment against Frodo's tan nipple, which now stood in stark contrast to the milky skin surrounding it, Sam slowly began to nibble his way down his master's abdomen. Soft, small hairs flattened under his questing lips as he ventured further down, the scent of Frodo's arousal hitting him with greater force as he claimed inch after inch of creamy skin. 

“You're beautiful, Mr. Frodo.” Sam murmured, unable to keep himself from nuzzling his face against Frodo's cloth covered erection.

Frodo blushed under the compliment and opened his mouth to utter proper thanks, but found the words gone the very moment Sam pressed into him. A moan erupted from him at his gardener's forward and unexpected action, and before Frodo knew what he was doing his hands flew down to twine in Sam's sandy locks, fighting to not press up into his lover's now open mouth.

Sam felt a jolt of pleasure run straight to his cock at the nearly sinful sound that rumbled from Frodo's throat and couldn't help but open his mouth to engulf what he could of his lover's arousal. The scent he had so often cherished, rosemary and fresh oatmeal, was now heavier than ever before. However, it wasn't just the clean scents he detected, for the heady scent of Frodo's arousal now engulfed Sam completely like the heat of a Summer's day. Unable to get enough of the new sensation, Sam found his fingers flying to the ties on Frodo's breeches to unlace them, his tongue still lapping reverently over the fine velvet covering his master's cock. 

“Sam!” Frodo gasped out, unable to keep his thoughts to himself at the overwhelming sensation of every nerve in his body. “Sam, please...” He moaned, unsure exactly of what he was asking for as he felt his breeches being removed.

“Don't you worry, Mr. Frodo, I'll take good care of you.” Sam replied softly, his eyes meeting Frodo's for a moment in soft adoration. “I'll always take care of you.” He whispered, his lips sliding effortlessly over the girth of his lover's arousal. 

Frodo opened his eyes for a brief moment, meeting Sam's gaze. Although he was currently bared and exposed in front of another for the first time, Frodo felt no shame or hesitation. No, instead Frodo felt his heart swell with far more love and adoration for Sam than he ever thought possible. He began to smile softly, but suddenly found the expression melted away by the heat of Sam's mouth sliding over his erect cock. In an instant, Frodo found his lower lip between his teeth, a loud groan of pleasure escaping his throat despite his best efforts to keep quiet.

Sam kept his eyes closed as he swirled his tongue around the velvety head of Frodo's arousal, his master's taste sharp and bursting against his tongue with every bread of precome he was able to coax out. Humming in pleasure, Sam opened his eyes to gauge Frodo's reaction, his movements halting for but a moment in revert awe. There Frodo lie, head tossed back against the worn arm of the couch with his lip captured between his teeth. A light sheen of sweat had begun to cover him, and in result caused the milky skin on his chest to glisten with the soft firelight. Sam sighed in soft, fulfilled contentment through his nose and began to continue his ministrations over Frodo's velvet flesh. However, he didn't get to enjoy the feeling of his master's heavy flesh against his tongue for much longer before he felt a soft yet insistent tug on his hair. 

“Is somethin' wrong, Mr. Frodo?” Sam asked quickly, licking his lips to revel a final time in the sharp flavor he had experienced.

“No, Sam.” Frodo replied, breathless as a smile fluttered across his spit shiny lips. “I'm just very close, and I want to be near you when I finish.”

Frodo's frank words were like a punch of arousal to his gut, and Sam realized how aching he truly was, and how close merely bringing pleasure to his lover had gotten him.

“Anything you wish, Mr. Frodo.” Sam said softly, slowly sliding up his lover's body. 

Frodo let a small breath loose as Sam slid up to eye level with him, allowing their erections to line up in such a way it was nearly the most pleasurable thing he had ever felt, aside from Sam's talented tongue. “Oh, Sam.” Frodo whispered, stroking the gardener's cheek before his hands moved to finish sliding his robe off Sam's shoulders, leaving him bared.

Sam's eyes went soft with adoration at Frodo's whisper of his name as the dressing gown fell from his shoulders. “Mr. Frodo... Frodo,” He murmured, finding the use of just his master's first name odd, but fitting for the moment. “I love you.”

Frodo could have cried out of happiness upon hearing the three words he longed to hear for so many years from Sam's lips, and quickly captured those lips in a soft kiss, his arms wrapping around his gardener's strong frame. “Oh, Sam, I love you too.” He replied, voice wavering with the combination of joy and arousal in the moment.

Sam looked into Frodo's eyes once more before closing his eyes to capture his lover's mouth in a kiss. Slow and deep, like the burning of coals upon a fireplace, the two Hobbits kissed, their bodies moving in natural friction against each other. Tongues twined together in a slick dance between their shared breaths as their erections moved together in perfect sync, each hot, slippery thrust against one another bringing each closer to orgasm.

As Sam's name erupted from his throat in a shout of pleasure, Frodo spilled against his stomach, his pearly seed glistening in fat droplets upon his heaving abdomen.

At Frodo's moan of his name, Sam rutted but twice more against his lover before he too was spilling upon Frodo's abdomen, a low groan rumbling up from his throat as pleasure overtook him. Too weak to hold himself up any longer, Sam rolled to the side of Frodo and instantly pulled him close. 

Frodo smiled as he moved towards Sam with what seemed to be the last bit of strength he possessed. Resting his head against the gardener's chest, the Hobbit sighed in contentment and twined his fingers with Sam's.

“I definitely will be keeping you late from now on, Sam.” Frodo teased, leaning up to place a gentle kiss against the other Hobbit's lips.

“I was hopin' as much, M-” Sam began, smiling at his old habit, “Frodo.”

Frodo sighed happily and nuzzled closer into Sam's side, breathing in the heady scent of their combined pleasures as his eyelids fell heavily. Noticing by the pattern of Sam's breath that he, too, was slipping into a fatigued sleep, Frodo twined their hands together. “I'm glad you're with me, Samwise Gamgee.” He murmured, pleasant sleep overtaking him not a moment later.

**Author's Note:**

> If you'd like to check out my tumblr, I'm at cas-wings.tumblr.com :)


End file.
